“She uttered a sound rather like an elephant taking its foot out of a mud hole in a Burmese teak forest.”
“The footing was really atrocious. I loved it. I really like Cross Country; you're one with the mud.”
“She look me over from head to foot. Then she cackle. Sound like a death rattle. You sure is ugly, she say, like she ain't believed it.”
“Not, like, that, boychik, you sound like a herd of elephants charging through a music store.”
“As soon as she set foot outside, she could hear the empty conversation and laughter resume. Like sounding brass and tinkling cymbals.”
“Actually, the Burmese don't refer to her by name. They just call her "The Lady." It's like Voldemort in Harry Potter, "He Who Must Not Be Named.”